


All The Wrong Choices

by mariuspondmercy



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, contains mention of smut but no smut itself, m. and mme enjolras make an appearance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-14 12:01:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3409823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariuspondmercy/pseuds/mariuspondmercy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Enjolras' parents decide to invite him and his girlfriend over for dinner, things obviously don't go all too well. Éponine and Enjolras agree to play a little game with them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Enjolras’ parents had invited him and Éponine over.

“To get to know the young lady we found out about only days ago because there was an article in the newspaper about you,” as his mother had said when she’d called him.

From that moment on, Enjolras knew the evening would end in a disaster. It was inevitable, with his family and their prejudices. He wasn’t ashamed of Éponine, quite on the contrary actually, but he knew his parents and he knew their attitude towards class.

Reluctantly, Enjolras had accepted, although not before discussing the matter with Éponine. He knew his parents, stiflingly upper class _and_ white, had many flaws and could be exhausting, but he also knew they loved him and wanted the best for him. So, surely, seeing him happy with Éponine would please them.

Éponine had also accepted, because she knew he loved his parents, despite all the problems and arguments they always had.

Now here they were, Enjolras in a tux, Éponine in a strapless sparkling midnight blue long dress, sipping expensive champagne out of expensive glasses while sitting on expensive furniture, surrounded by expensive decorations in the sitting room, waiting to be called to dinner.

It had gone considerably better than they’d expected. Then again, they were just about to start dinner, and they’d only been at the Enjolras mansion for roughly half an hour. It was only a matter of time until something would go wrong.

This was not her world at all. But luckily, up until now, his parents hadn’t paid too much attention to her.

His father was too busy discussing politics (Enjolras had to grab Éponine’s hand and squeeze it tightly to stop him from saying something he’d regret), his mother too busy cooing over her only son.

“Raphaël,” his mother kept saying in that shrill voice of hers. “Raphaël, son, you need to get a haircut. I don’t understand why you don’t keep it short anymore. It suited you so well. It looked so much more professional.”

They were led into the dining room at 7:30 sharp and not a second earlier.

Gentleman that he was, Enjolras drew back the chair for his girlfriend and pressed a soft kiss on her shoulder before he sat down next to her.

The first thing Éponine noticed about the pompous room and the fancy dinner table was the amount of cutlery. She had never learned how to use different kinds of spoons or forks, and she wasn’t even sure what half of these things were. 

Feeling a slight panic rising up in her, Éponine gripped Enjolras’ hand. He smiled encouragingly at her, running his thumb in circles over the back of it. He was just about to say something when his mother spoke up.

“Mademoiselle….”

“Thénardier,” Éponine answered. Enjolras and she had discussed if they wanted to give his parents her real name. She still went by Jondrette under certain circumstances, but they both agreed to tell his parents the truth. 

“Mademoiselle Thénardier,” Mme Enjolras smiled, “my son failed to mention your profession. Are you a lawyer, too?”

“No, Ma’am. I’m a social worker. I help families and their children in their everyday-life and make sure that the children have a secure, loving, and stable home.”

“Éponine is amazing with children,” Enjolras said proudly, “and the kids love her, which means that she does a great job.”

“Mhm,” his mum nodded, “and your parents? What about them?”

“ _Maman_ , I hardly think her parents are of any importance, are they?”

“No, it’s alright.” Éponine squeezed his hand lightly. She didn’t want to be rude. Éponine really wanted to leave a good impression. She knew Enjolras didn’t care if his parents liked her or not, but she also knew that he loved them. Just like she still loved her parents, in a way. 

“My father owns a nightclub, my mother doesn’t work. She helps him from time to time.”

“A nightclub, I see,” his mother said thoughtfully, “That’s a very… interesting profession. How long have you two been together?”

“We’re close to our third anniversary,” Enjolras smiled, eyes fixed on Éponine. 

“Are we?” she asked, raising her eyebrows questioningly. 

“Combeferre reminded me the other day. He wanted to know if we’ve planned anything.”

“Have we?”

“Not yet. It’s the day of Gavroche’s football match anyway.”

“Ah, alright. Yeah, he’d kill us if we didn’t come to see him.” 

“You know who else plays football?”his mother chimed in, “Papa’s colleague, M. Louis. Do you remember him, Raphaël? His daughter just graduated from law school and is looking for work. You don’t have a job for her by any chance?”

“Leave the boy be for a moment, Claudine,” Monsieur Enjolras gently reproved his wife, “didn’t you have more questions for Mlle Thénardier? You know I don’t like to talk about business during dinner.”

Monsieur Enjolras kept talking all the way through the aperitif and the appetiser, chatting about the recent football development (Enjolras was an avid lover of the game, and Éponine had learned to appreciate it since Gavroche had started to play), Combeferre and Courfeyrac (whose fathers used to be colleagues of his “back in the day”), and other innocuous pleasantries. His wife never once removed her gaze from her son’s girlfriend. Éponine grew more and more nervous under Madame Enjolras’ watchful eye. This was going to be fucking torture, she knew it. When the chitchat was over, the interrogation could begin. 

“So your parents are business owners then?” Madame Enjolras asked once the main course was served, in what could have been mistaken for an innocent tone, if Éponine hadn’t been excellent at reading people, “How exciting. I imagine it must be interesting, considering all the atrocities your father is involved in.”

“Excuse me?” Enjolras choked on his wine at his mother’s words, “what are you talking about?” 

“Darling, do you really believe we didn’t check her before she came here? You know, we have to be careful in our position. Her father is rumoured to be involved with the Patron-Minette. They’re criminals, Raphaël, they kill people.”

“I’m aware,” he replied curtly, visibly tensing up. He was also aware that her father was more than just rumoured to be involved. 

“What is it like to grow up in a family of criminals? Constantly surrounded by thieves, murderers, and… who knows what else. Has there never been a moment in your life you considered going into a different direction?”

“ _Maman_ , enough.”

“Enjolras, it’s alright,” Éponine reassured him quietly, squeezing his hand, “I’ve honestly never considered murdering someone for money.”

“So you are both aware of your father’s problematic lifestyle?”

“Yes, _Maman_. We know that. Trust me, we’re aware.”

“Then you might be aware that she’s cheating on you. _Mon amour_ ,” she turned towards her husband, “the photos?”

“Of course, _ma_ _chérie_.” He handed her an envelope. 

Under the table, Enjolras grabbed Éponine’s hand a little tighter. 

His father pulled out a few photos, sliding them over the table to the couple. 

“Our detective caught her in the act, kissing another man.”

Furrowing his brows, Enjolras looked at the first picture.

“My, Éponine, it seems my parents got a photo of your brother kissing your cheek. You think we should ask them if we can keep it?”

Éponine laughed a little. “I like that photo, let’s keep it!”

“We found her with various men,” his father chimed in, “leaving their flats early in the morning.”

Enjolras took the rest of the photos in both hands, looking through them. Of course he had never actually believed that Éponine cheated on him, but his mother’s accusations had caused a slight discomfort within him. Examining the photos though, the dread had vanished in a matter of seconds.

“Éponine, how could you?” he asked, struggling to keep a straight face, “How could you do this to me?”

“Oh, I swear,” she answered, a smile tugging on her lips, “Combeferre was a one-night-stand!”

“Combeferre?”

“Did I say that? No I meant Grantaire, of course!”

“Grantaire, too?”

“No, no, just Courfeyrac!”

Enjolras pretended to glare at her for a few more moments before he burst out laughing. 

“This is so ridiculous. _Maman_ , _Papa_ , I can assure you that Éponine is faithful. Those are just our friends. Nothing to worry about. I appreciate that you want my best, but following my girlfriend and taking photos of her without her knowledge… Éponine, would you like to tell them the legal grounds for that? She’s an excellent photographer, you must know, she knows this is all illegal and we could very well sue you.”

Enjolras kissed her temple, a smug grin playing on his lips. 

Éponine on the other hand wasn’t as confident. She shrunk in on herself, aware of the fact that his parents clearly wanted to get rid of her as quickly as possible. They weren’t even subtle about it. From there, the evening didn’t improve.

Halfway through the main course - Enjolras and Éponine hardly touched their food as his mother continued to sing the praises of family friends’ lovely, talented, well-educated daughters- the doorbell rang.

“Ah, finally,” M. Enjolras smiled, “we expected them earlier.”

“We’re not too late for dinner, right?” Éponine heard the demanding voice of her mother from outside the dining room, just before the door was opened and her parents stepped in. 

“Éponine, my darling child!” her mother cooed, showering her face with wet and meaningless kisses.

Enjolras’ parents moved to greet them, both mothers sharing an embrace and kisses on the cheek.   
The shock clearly evident on her face, Éponine turned towards Enjolras, who wasn’t any less surprised. He had expected much from his parents, had counted on his mother trying to set him up with someone else, but inviting Éponine’s parents? That went too far. What would come of it? That he would realise her parents were awful, despicable creatures and he’d break up with Éponine because of that? As if he didn’t already know about her parents. As if he hadn’t had enough unpleasant encounters with them. 

“Monsieur, Madame, why don’t you sit down, have some dinner, and tell us something about your daughter?” Monsieur Enjolras gestured towards two chairs. Soon enough, the Thénardiers had plates filled with food and glasses filled, emptied, and quickly refilled with wine. 

We’re eager to know as much about her as possible, if she is to be with our son,” his mother smiled. 

“You know,” Madame Thénardier answered while chewing, “our Ponine has always been a rascal. Quite a wild child. She’s good at heart, wants to do the right thing. ‘S why she broke off that engagement with Parnasse. Shame, he’s a lovely fella.”

“You were engaged to Montparnasse?” Enjolras looked at her in bewilderment. “Why did you never mention it?”

He was aware that he was giving his parents exactly what the wanted—namely, a scene—but this truly came as a surprise to him.

 “What? You didn’t know? I thought you did. It’s not like I keep it secret. I think the others all know. Surely I must’ve mentioned it? I was 16 back then: young and foolish, and desperate for security and safety.” 

“Didn’t you date him after that?”

“Yeah.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Could we talk about that at home, please?”

“Yes, of course, I’m sorry,” Enjolras smiled apologetically, pressing a soft kiss on her lips. 

“So, this Parnasse…” Monsieur Enjolras started. 

“Oh, he’s a family friend,” Éponine’s father explained, “Ponine an’ Azelma an’ him, they grew up together. Always thought one of me girls would marry him, make him me son-in-law. Ah, what a dream… Nice fella, love him like me own son.”

Éponine gave a slightly hysterical laugh; Enjolras’ hand immediately found hers again, squeezing it lightly. 

“So you have another daughter then?” Madame Enjolras asked.

“We used to have a third, yes. But she got stolen away from us,” Monsieur Thénardier sighed dramatically, “our darling Corvette.”

“Cosette,” his wife hissed. 

“Cosette, right, yes. The pain is still so fresh, me poor battered heart refuses to acknowledge her name to spare my sanity.”

“He’s good,” Enjolras murmured in Éponine’s ear. 

“He certainly has a way with words. How else would he have gotten 15,000 Francs for Cosette? He’s convincing,” she whispered back. 

“But Ponine an’ Azelma, me own kids… They mistreated her badly. Especially dear Ponine. She was ruthless. Even attempted to steal her boyfriend. Poor Colette.”

“Cosette.”

“Cosette, poor unfortunate Cosette.”

“Do they actually believe this?” Enjolras wondered, whispering into Éponine’s hair as he kissed the top of her head.

“Your parents are too clever to believe them.”

“Did you ever see her again?” Enjolras’ mother wanted to know, fake concern noticeable to everyone in the room.

“We did, we did,” Madame Thénardier nodded, “she looked miserable.”

“Because you crushed her wedding and tried to convince her husband that her father was a murderer!” Éponine growled, “That’s why she looked miserable.” She shook her head and turned towards her boyfriend’s parents: “Cosette is a lovely young woman. She’s very dear to me. Yes, I mistreated her when we were children. But she forgave me. She is good at heart, the kindest person you will ever meet. Cosette married a baron and my parents tried to blackmail him.”

“Éponine, will ya shut ya dirty mouth,” her father snapped at her.

“I didn’t even swear, nothing dirty about what I said. Never said ‘fuck’ or ‘shit’ or ‘whore’, now did I?”

“This is the kind of family you want to be associated with, Raphaël, darling?”

“ _Maman_ , please.”

“Oh, hush, _mon coeur_. I’m right, am I not?”

Just before dessert, the doorbell rang again. Mere minutes later, a young woman entered the dining room, smiling brightly at Enjolras’ mother. 

“Claudine, thank you very much for your invitation!”

“Oh, you’re very welcome, dear Géraldine. May I introduce you to my son?”

Enjolras stood up, shaking the woman’s hand. 

“Pleasure. May I introduce you to my girlfriend?” Enjolras grinned at his mother while he lay his hand on Éponine’s shoulder, lightly stroking her shoulder blade with his thumb. 

“Your… girlfriend?”

“Did _Maman_ fail to mention her when she invited you for the dinner she’s hosting to get to know Éponine? I’m sure it simply slipped her mind. I’m sure she didn’t mean to withhold such a crucial bit of information.”

Only her boyfriend’s warm hand on her skin grounded Éponine. So this had been their plan all along. Invite her parents to show Enjolras how awful her family - and therefore Éponine - was, only to then introduce him to a much more fitting partner. 

“I’m sorry,” Éponine mumbled, “I need a moment. Excuse me.” 

She slipped out from underneath Enjolras’ hand, quickly making her way outside. She had underestimated how cold late October nights were as she sat shivering on the steps of the mansion. Maybe it wasn’t that cold at all. Maybe the dinner just took its toll on her, seeing as the South of France was clearly warmer than Paris.

It was not even two minutes before she felt soft warm lips at the nape of her neck.

“I hate your mum,” she mumbled, drawing patterns on the stone steps with the tips of her perfectly manicured fingers.

“Mhm, I get that.” Enjolras slowly sat down next to her and draped his jacket across her shoulders.

Éponine didn’t dare to look at her boyfriend. Instead, she focused on her hands.

“Cosette spent three hours doing my hair and make-up and nails. I just… I wanted to look my best. I wanted your parents to like me. That was so… ugh.” She stood up, pacing up and down at the bottom of the stairs, the jacket held tightly around her small frame. “It was so stupid. I don’t care what your parents think of me. I don’t care if they like me. I don’t care.”

“Come here.” Enjolras held out his hand and drew her into is arms. “I know you don’t care. And I know why you do care.”

“What if she’s right? What if I’m all the wrong choices?”

“Ponine…” He cupped her face and kissed her softly, “of course you are all the wrong choices. That doesn’t mean she’s right. You’re all the wrong choices because you’re just as passionate as I am. Because you and I, we can both be so very cruel and cold. We clash, we’re tooth and claw. You’re all the wrong choices because I should settle down with someone that has my parents’ approval. You’re all the wrong choices because you yell and shout at me, because I dare to yell and shout back. You’re all the wrong choices because you are what I crave. I wouldn’t change a single thing. Your smile lightens my darkest days.”

Éponine smiled softly, burying her face in the crook of his neck, while Enjolras lightly stroked her back.

“You know what?” she whispered against his skin, pressing a hot kiss to it.

Enjolras revelled in the feeling of her lips against his neck, her breath a welcoming warmth on his cold skin.

“When my mum greeted yours, she stole her earrings, her watch, and two rings. I’m not even mad, I’m just impressed. I wouldn’t have managed the earrings and probably only one of the rings.”

He chuckled, drawing Éponine closer against his chest.

“Do you want to leave?”

“No. I’m not running away. I’ll face your mother. I’ll face her words. I don’t care.” She paused. “Alright, I do care, but I’m a Thénardier and we don’t back down. We aren’t cowards—except my father, who truly is a coward. But you know me, I fight.”

Enjolras laughed lightly, kissing her full on the lips.

It wasn’t long until they entered the house again, Éponine trailing behind Enjolras. Silently, they slipped into their chairs.

“Raphaël, are you alright?” His mother gave him a concerned look, her brows furrowed.

“Of course, _Maman_. Éponine and I will be leaving after dessert. Géraldine, would you be so kind as to give me your number so I can call you in case I’m able to offer you a job?”

“Why yes, absolutely!” She smiled at him, fishing a pen out of her purse. Géraldine leaned over the table, grabbed Enjolras’ hand, and scribbled her number on the back of it. “There you go. And even if you don’t have a job for me, maybe you’ll have time for a coffee?”

“I’m sure I will. There’s always time for coffee,” he smiled, squeezing her hand lightly.


	2. Chapter 2

“So,” Géraldine smiled as she sat down opposite of Enjolras, taking a sip from her hot chocolate, “You’re coming to your parents’ Christmas dinner next week, then? I’ll be there.”

They had been meeting weekly for the two months since he’d endured dinner with his parents.

“No, I’m at another Christmas party that day. We always have one the weekend before Christmas and I wouldn’t miss that for the world.”

“Is it a party with your friends?”

Enjolras nodded, a smile on his full lips. “Yes. Those parties are crazy, I’m telling you, but they’re the best people in the world.”

“Maybe,” she grinned, leaning towards Enjolras, her hand on his knee, “maybe I could come with you? Get to know your friends?”

“I’m not sure my girlfriend would be too happy about that.”

“Are you still with her?” She sighed dramatically, “She was engaged to a murderer! How can you trust her? Didn’t you tell me about a huge fight?”

“’He’s not a murderer.” First lie. “She was sixteen and never seriously considered marrying him.” Second lie. “And we didn’t fight. You must’ve misunderstood.” Third lie.

They’d had a fight, but it hadn’t been a big one. Of course Enjolras was upset that Éponine had never explicitly told him about her engagement to Montparnasse, but in the end, he figured it was her right. And apparently all their friends knew. Éponine had probably mentioned it early on, when she had just joined the group and Enjolras hadn’t really paid attention to her. Funny, how things could change.

“Does your mum know you’re still with her?”

“I’ve only talked to her twice after the dinner: to tell her I can’t come to Christmas Dinner, and to verify a new date. As much as I hate what she and Papa did, they’re still family.”

Géraldine nodded lightly. “I won’t tell her. I’m sorry. She’s wanted to set us up from the moment she began investigating Éponine’s life, you know. I didn’t realize at first. I thought… Your mum said you have your own firm, and that you might have a job for me. Then she started telling me I’m your type, and showing me photos of you, telling me stories… You sounded so nice. It was quite a shock, the dinner. Afterwards, your mum apologized, but encouraged me to keep after you, and you—you keep meeting up with me for coffee. I thought something could happen between us… But I get it. You really do love her. You get this stupid smile when someone mentions her.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Enjolras sighed, “I’m sorry. That was… part of the plan. I’m sorry we used you.”

“What plan?”

“The plan Éponine and I came up with to show my mother that she really is all the wrong choices. Care to listen to the details?” He grinned a wicked grin as he leaned forward to elaborate. Maybe having Géraldine on their side was a good thing.

That evening, Éponine was already getting ready for the second dinner at the Enjolras’ Mansion when Enjolras let himself into her flat. She had given him a spare key shortly after the first dinner, her trust in him verified by the evening.

"Ponine?" He called out, "I’ll make myself some coffee. Do you want one, too?"

"Yes, please!" Her voice came from the bathroom, "I’ll be done in a bit and I think we need some good coffee before we head off to your parents’ place. D’you reckon they know I’m coming?"

"No. I talked to Géraldine and told her our plan. She’s on board and promised to call my mum to tell her about today’s coffee date."

"Was she very angry with you?" Éponine stepped out of the bathroom and joined Enjolras in the kitchen.

He turned around to answer, but while he opened his mouth, no sound came out.

"I take it you like my outfit? Come on, pretty boy, be politically incorrect."

"I… I’m not sure if I’m aroused or repelled."

Éponine laughed a little and closed the distance to gently kiss her boyfriend.

"That’s exactly the effect it’s supposed to have. I’m freezing though. You know, I’ve learned that you should never show leg and cleavage. That’s a bullshit rule; I’m sure showing a lot of both will get your mother’s blood to boil. It took me half an hour to put on the make-up. There’s so much I think my skin is suffocating. But this lipstick is awesome. I swear, I can make out with you and it’s still gonna be there. Wait. Maybe that’s bad. Maybe I should apply one that will stick to the glasses and then I’ll keep taking sips from your dad’s glass. Brilliant idea. I’ll be right back!"

Enjolras chuckled as he watched her hurry away before he turned back to his task at hand: making coffee. He had just poured the coffee into their mugs when his girlfriend reappeared.

"So,” she asked, "all the wrong choices?"

He quickly scanned her. Short black dress, bright red lipstick, her hair messy and big, clearly showing the undercut she had hidden last time, and her eyes the perfect cat-eye.

"All the wrong choices," he agreed with a grin, "you look gorgeous. You always do, no matter what."

"Yeah, I agree. But I also know you prefer me the way I usually dress or do my make-up and hair."

"Mhm," he hummed in approval, handing her the mug, "but it’s your choice to dress however you want and I would never stop you from doing that or love you any less because of your clothing style or the way you wear your hair."

Éponine simply beamed at him before taking a sip from her coffee. She placed the mug carefully on the counter and hopped on it, only to hold her hand out and draw Enjolras towards her.

“Okay, I’m asking you once more: Are you sure you want to go through with this?”

“Ponine. I’m wearing a button down shirt with a tee underneath just so all the hickeys you made over the last week are perfectly visible.”

“And it’s plaid and red and you look so hot in it. Oh I have a brilliant idea. You still have your beige trousers at my place. You could wear those instead of the black ones and I could smear a bit of lipstick around the fly.”

“… You’re a vixen. I love that idea.”

“I prefer to be called a devil, but I appreciate that compliment nonetheless.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek and lightly smeared the red lipstick with her thumb, “You should leave it there. Serves your mother right. Now, the trousers. Chop-chop!”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He laughed at her and kissed her forehead before he went to change his trousers.

Éponine happily watched him go, sipping her coffee until Enjolras came back.

“These trousers better? You want to get to work and smear lipstick around the fly? Can you do that so it doesn’t look fake?”

“Mhm, no problem. Can you come here for a sec, please?”

“Sure.” She could tell from the slight tilt of his head and his furrowed brows that he was worried about her. It was the same look he had every time she felt as if she had fucked up, the same look he had when he was concerned about her, when he felt like she had a bad day but refused to talk about it.

“Everything’s fine,” Éponine reassured him, “I just… I love you so much. Hey, don’t look like I’m about to break up with you,” she chuckled, lightly poking his chest.

“It sounds a bit worrying, though.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’d kiss you again, but this lipstick is really cheap and keeps rubbing off. No. Look, this is really important, okay?” Éponine took his hands in hers and squeezed lightly. “I need you to know the possible consequences of our plan. Are you sure you want to go through with it? Don’t do this just for me. This could ruin your relationship with your parents. We can still stop this, okay? We have half an hour before we need to leave, we can get changed and no one ever needs to know about the plan.”

He let go off her hands and cupped her face instead.

"Ponine, listen and listen good because I’m not going to repeat myself: If my parents cannot accept the woman I’m with and the person I’ve become because of her, then I don’t need a relationship with my parents. This is going to be your evening and you are fully in control of everything. I trust you. Show them what you’re made of and get that damn lipstick on my trousers. Not that my mother is going to stare at my crotch, hopefully, but I like the idea."

Éponine grinned and lightly pushed him away so she could hop off the counter and turn them around, backing Enjolras against the fridge, before she got to work. When she was content with the state of lipstick on his trousers, she placed a kiss on his cheek and licked her lips, happily taking in his dishevelled hair and the way his right hand was still fisted into his curls.

"We’re good to go?" Éponine asked.

"You’re wicked," Enjolras simply retorted.

"Ah, the Wicked Witch of the West? Darling, I’m actually not from the West of Paris, sorry to disappoint you. Oh, and I’ll be giving you really obnoxious pet names all evening long. Just play along."

"I will."

When the pair arrived at Enjolras’ parents, Mme and M. Enjolras were shocked, to say the least. For the past two months, they had foolishly been thinking their son had broken up with Éponine, and had hoped Raphaël would continue dating their friend’s more appropriate daughter.

"Adrien!" Éponine exclaimed before anyone had the chance to react. She hugged Enjolras’ father and kissed his cheeks, leaving behind two prominently red lipstick marks. "It is so good to see you’re still pissed about me dating your precious son. I’m glad you haven’t changed a bit. Though, quite frankly, as if folks like you would ever fucking change.”

She smiled brightly, strutting past him to greet Enjolras’ mother.

“Claudine.” Éponine hugged her and kissed her cheeks, too, before taking the woman’s hands in hers. “You fucking hate me and wanted to get rid of me. Yet here I am. Should’ve ordered a hitman, y’know? I mean, you already met my dear papa.”

Éponine let go of her hands and instead took Enjolras’, dragging him with her into the dining room where she shed her coat and threw it on the table.

“I’m so glad to be back,” she grinned, hopping onto the table, “I really have to thank you two. You reconnected me with my parents. I totally forgot why I ever stopped talking to them. I mean, sure,” she continued, shrugging her shoulders, “they sold my baby brothers for illegal adoptions, gave my other brother into a foster home, and forced me and my younger sister into prostitution, but really, can you blame them? I certainly can’t, not after you invited them over to show me just how similar we are. Oh, which reminds me!” She opened her hand to reveal three rings. “Stole them from you, Claudine. Clever little slut, ain’t I? What can I say, I’m my father’s child.”

As soon as she held her hands out, Enjolras grabbed them and let her draw him between her legs. Éponine was grateful for his silent support, the way his fingers danced over the exposed skin of her thighs.

“Raphaël, we need to talk,” his mother said, “Now.” She indicated the living room with a sharp nod of her head and – after kissing Éponine softly - Enjolras complied and followed her.

“So, it’s just us two then,“ Éponine grinned at M. Enjolras, “why don’t you sit down, hm? I’m sure the dinner will be ready soon. You and your dragon of a wife would never serve it late now, would you? Practically perfect. Just narcissistic, capitalistic, bigoted bourgeoisie. Where’s the fault in that?”

“Mademoiselle, hold your tongue.”

“Oh, your son never says that to me,” she grinned, licking her lips and winking at him. Éponine slid down the table and made her way over to Enjolras’ father, “and I’m sure you wouldn’t say it either, if you knew the pleasures this filthy little mouth of mine can bring. I’m sure I could show you…” She let her fingers dance on his chest, only pulling away when Enjolras and his mother entered the dining room again.

"We agreed that she can stay," Enjolras’ mother said with a sneer.

"Oh, how utterly gracious!" Éponine exclaimed sarcastically, "to be blessed with such love by my soon-to-be mother-in-law."

"Your WHAT? Oh, I refuse to believe that! Raphaël, tell me this isn’t true."

"Why, but it is," Enjolras nodded. It wasn’t. Neither of them believed in the institution of marriage, nor did they have any desire to spend so much money on something that wouldn’t change anything. But Éponine had asked him to simply play along, and so he did.

"I don’t see a ring. You’re lying," Mme Enjolras all but shrieked.

"I took it off while I was fingering myself. You know, I didn’t want to lose it inside of me. That would be one fucking awkward visit to the doctor. Must’ve forgotten to put it back on. So, are we gonna eat now or what? I’m terribly hungry. You’ve got something better than that awful wine from last time? Might be fucking expensive but it tasted really bitter. Oh, some cognac maybe? Enjolras told me you’ve got a thing for that," she asked M. Enjolras with a smile so malicious Enjolras had trouble recognising his own girlfriend, "I’ll take it on the rocks, darling, thank you."

She simply sat down and looked at the three with expectancy. Enjolras followed suit, sitting down next to her, his arm lazily over the back of her chair.

"Would you like soup, Mademoiselle Thénardier?" Mme Enjolras asked through gritted teeth while her husband prepared Éponine’s drink.

"Oh thank you, no. I got my daily intake of warm fluids when I sucked your son off before we came here. Y’know, it’s always nice to get something warm in your belly from time to time."

She revelled in the sharp intake of breath from Mme and M. Enjolras as well as in the uncomfortable shifting of her boyfriend in his chair.

"It’s not the tastiest thing, mind you, but I’ve had worse. Like last week, when Parnasse came over. I mean, I’ve sucked him off plenty of times before, but I never knew he didn’t taste that nice. Maybe I just feel that way because I really love Enjolras, so everything about him is perfect. Still, it was a nice threesome. I should thank you guys. I mean, because you invited my parents, I actually did call Parnasse again.”

The glass M. Enjolras had been holding fell on the floor and shattered with a loud noise.

“Oh dear,” Éponine sighed, “it sucks if you’re too old to be sexually active, right? Does it make you feel uncomfortable when I keep talking about our sex life? Damn, too bad, cause I don’t fucking care. So, where’s the food?”

“We will get it,” Mme Enjolras said curtly, dragging her husband with her.

As soon as they were in the kitchen, Éponine took a deep breath. She stood up and moved towards the sideboard, poured herself some cognac. Enjolras was at her side immediately, drawing her into his arms.

“You’re doing so well,” he murmured against her hair, “I’m so proud.”

“I’m telling your parents very explicit stuff. Trust me, it won’t stop, it will get worse. Tell me if you want to stop, tell me if this is too much for you. We will apologize and leave.”

“We’re going through with this, Éponine. And we’re going to show them just how much we love each other. Can you get me one of these, too?” Enjolras nodded towards the glass in her hand.

“And who’s supposed to drive us home then? I plan on getting shitfaced as hell.”

“We’ll call a cab.”

“Deal.” Éponine nodded and handed him her drink before getting herself a new one, “why is your mum letting us stay anyway?”

“Because I told her I’d never talk to her again if she would throw us out.”

“What a clever boyfriend I have.”

“Mhm, as if you wouldn’t have known that before. You wanna get the act on before they come back? They’re probably arguing right now, but they won’t be gone for long.”

“What’s your plan, then?”

When Enjolras’ parents entered the dining room again, followed by their servant, Éponine was sitting in Enjolras’ lap, one leg on either side of his, making out with him. His face was basically covered in lipstick marks. Whenever Éponine tugged on his curls, he let out a slightly whiny – and, as Éponine knew, fake – moan.

When Éponine moved her lips down her boyfriend’s throat, lightly scratching with her teeth, even biting his collar bone. Enjolras simply winked at his father before closing his eyes again, a serene smile playing on his lips.

The bowl of soup was nearly slammed on the table, which cause Éponine to look up.

“Oh, food! Fucking awesome! Though I really don’t want soup. Tiger, you want it? I’m happy with bread.”

’Yeah,’ Enjolras nodded, “but can you move a bit so I can eat?’”

“But I can stay?”

“Course you can stay.”

Éponine happily moved, letting her legs hang off Enjolras’ lap. While he ate his soup, she continued kissing his neck for a while before she got up to make two more drinks for herself and her boyfriend.

“There you go, babe.” She handed him the drink, downing hers in a swift motion before she poured herself another one.

Éponine sat down in the chair next to her boyfriend again. After she finished most of her third drink, she started to rummage around in her handbag.

“It has to be somewhere in here… I’m looking for my lipstick, you know,” she said, “cause it’s fucking fierce but wears off so quickly. Especially when making out. Y’know, I’m still looking for a lipstick called _Blood Of Angry Men_ but no fucking luck so far. Kinda sucks, cause that would be fucking amazing, y’know? Oh man, there’s this one brand, but it’s fucking expensive. Hot Stuff,” she addressed Enjolras, “you’ll get it for me, right?”

“Of course, baby.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic.” She proceeded to look into her handbag before she sighed and simply tipped the whole bag over. The contents splayed across the table and Éponine was busy looking through them, “Ah, condom. You wanna have that?” She pushed it across the table towards Mme Enjolras, “We don’t need it, we’re trying for a baby anyway. Maybe you can use it? That is, if your husband’s dick is as big as your son’s.”

Mme Enjolras nearly choked on her soup, coughing loudly.

Of course they weren’t actually trying for a baby. Rather early into their relationship, Enjolras and Éponine had realised that they didn’t want to have children at all. Éponine had already raised Gavroche, she was a social worker. Really, a child at home was not what she wanted.

“A take that as a no, then. Oh you know what’s fucking funny?” Éponine unwrapped the condom, put it over the rim of the glass and tipped it over so that the cognac flowed into the condom. She giggled, seemingly content with her work. “And now, for my next trick…” She bit off the tip and took the condom into her mouth until all the liquor had flown out. With a grin, Éponine tossed it on the table and leaned back in her chair. “So, where’s the real food now? You really suck at being good hosts.”

Rolling her eyes, she propped her feet up on the table.

“Mademoiselle Thénardier,” Mme Enjolras started cautiously.

“What?” she snapped, “Something doesn’t suit you? Oh dear, sucks, doesn’t it? Y’know, my life’s mostly not getting what I want, and people throwing stones my way. Trust me, dear, my feet are cleaner than my mouth. Already tried to convince your husband of that. Oh, which reminds me…” She took her feet down again and started sorting through the stuff she had tipped out on the table. “There we go!” Éponine sighed and held up her lipstick. “Found that little fucker.” She took out her hand mirror, which she had stored in her bra, and started applying her lipstick again. Smacking her lips, Éponine nodded contently. “So, food? Whatcha got?”

“Boeuf Bourguignon with potato mash and grated truffles,” the servant, who had just come in with the main course, informed Éponine.

“No veggies? Five a day‘s what I keep telling my brother.”

“There will be broccoli, carrots, and Brussel sprouts, Mademoiselle.”

“Ah, perfect. Thank you.” Éponine smiled at the servant. As much as she detested Enjolras’ parents, she couldn’t possible drag an innocent person into the mess.

It was silent for a while after the main course had been served.

Until a loud moan could be heard.

And then another one.

All eyes snapped towards Enjolras, who was bright red and started frenetically to get his phone out of his pocket.

“Oh, Honey Bear, I forgot to tell ya: I changed your text message sound so you can enjoy me every second of the day.” She winked at him.

Enjolras simply stared at his phone, reading the two messages.

_[20:04] Ferre: Ponine asked me to send you a text._

_[20:04] Grantaire: I know her plan and I love it. Tell her I said hi!_

“Grantaire says hi,” Enjolras dutifully reported.

“Oh, that is so nice of him!” She kissed her boyfriend’s cheek and smiled even wider when the next moan indicated a new text message – a photo of Grantaire and Combeferre, captioned with _Ponine told us to keep texting you._

He laughed at that, placing his phone on the table. Yes, the moaning was slightly uncomfortable but he knew it was fake. He knew how Éponine moaned and he knew that this was fake. Her, but fake.

The rest of the main course went, all things considered, relatively well. Enjolras’ phone moaned constantly, keeping the blush on his face quite prominent.

By the way his mother forced her fork into her food, Éponine just waited for her to snap and throw her out. The fact that she hadn’t done so already, despite her son’s warning, was only igniting the fire within Éponine to push Mme Enjolras to her limits.

As soon as dessert came, Éponine saw her chance. With her hand unnecessarily high on Enjolras’ thigh, she started to lick the ice cream off her spoon, tongue swirling around the head of it, while her eyes were locked with Enjolras’ father.

The constant moaning whenever Enjolras got a new text message from his friends didn’t help to ease the tension in the room. Especially not when Éponine started moaning herself whenever she ate a spoonful of ice cream. When her hand kept wandering higher and higher, her boyfriend couldn’t help a moan slipping out from between his own lips.

“That’s enough!” Mme Enjolras shrieked, “I’ve had enough of this! Even if I run the risk of never seeing my son again, that’s preferable to having this—this _person_ in my house! You, leave immediately! I don’t want to see this slut in my home ever again.”

Éponine quickly squeezed Enjolras’ hand to let him know she’d handle the situation by herself.

“Slut is the worst you can think of? Oh, that’s so cute. How about worthless whore? Righteous bitch? Hussy? You think slut is offensive to me? I’ve been called all of these things and worse by my dear Papa. Do you think your words hurt? Do you think they change anything? Do you think by calling me names, by stalking me, by telling your son stuff about me he already knows you could break us up? Bitch, you think your son is stupid? You think you have such a power over him that your petty little words can convince him to leave his girlfriend? To end a three-year-long relationship?”

Éponine laughed and shook her head lightly. “Silly woman. You’re fucking ridiculous. This whole thing is fucking ridiculous. It’s such a farce, your whole life. The way your husband is so obviously staring at my tits in front of his wife and my boyfriend, the way you all keep pretending. Fuck all of this. Fuck you two. We’re leaving.”

She gathered the contents of her handbag, which were still splayed across the table, and put them back before she stood up.

“Enjolras?”

“Raphaël, don’t, please, don’t trust this witch. She’s trying to take you away from your family!”

“Éponine is my family,” Enjolras replied calmly, “she and Gavroche are my everything. If you despise them, you will have to leave my life.” He stood up and took Éponine’s hand. “Thank you for having us tonight,” he curtly said before he followed his girlfriend out of the house.

They had to wait for a taxi though, as they had both had numerous drinks.

The ride back home was silent; neither spoke a word and only the radio provided some sound inside the car. It wasn’t uncomfortable though, it was what they needed after the evening. Even when they got home, Éponine and Enjolras didn’t utter so much as a peep. Only once Éponine had gotten rid of the make-up, pulled her hair up into a bun and changed into one of her boyfriend’s sweaters did she talk to him.

“I got tea,” she smiled lightly and settled down on the sofa.

“Thank you.” Enjolras sighed and drew her into his arms. He lay down on the sofa, carefully dragging his girlfriend with him.

She cuddled closer, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

 “Hey. How are you doing?”

“Exhausted. This was the worst. This evening? That was me with Montparnasse. That was me when I was in my late teens. You would’ve despised me. You would’ve… I was horrible back then. I was so mean, so cold and rude. I’m glad you didn’t know me back then,” she mumbled, her warm breath hitting his collarbone.

“I would’ve still fallen in love with you. I would’ve seen past the aggression, past the innuendoes. You are an amazing woman. You’re strong-willed, sweet, caring, sometimes a bit scary, and tough. You’re the woman I love with all of my heart. What you did this evening was standing your ground. You showed my parents that they’re awful people, that they judge too quickly. You presented yourself the way they would like to see you and it was amazing. Granted, I felt pretty uncomfortable and that text message sound? Oh dear.”

Éponine giggled. “Pretty clever, huh?”

He hummed in approval, running his fingers over her back and through her hair.

“And you’re not angry with me? You’re not upset because I was really awful to your parents?”

“It was the plan. It was a good plan and I am not angry. I admire that you managed to stay so calm.”

“Because I’m all the wrong choices and I know how to handle insults.” Éponine looked up at him, pressing a kiss to his chin. In return, he pressed a kiss on the tip of her nose.

“Because you’ve always been all the right choices.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! I definitely had fun writing it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


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